maid. She was gazing out toward the pole-star and the dim clouds that
lay motionless beneath it. The splash of the lake and the call of the
locusts and tree-toads on the bank behind them were the only sounds.
He went slowly forward and stood by her side. She looked up into his
eyes, then turned to the lake. She had dropped the blanket to the
sand, and he placed it again about her shoulders.

"I am not cold," she said.

"I am afraid, Mademoiselle. The air is chill."

They stood for a long time without speaking, while the northern clouds
sank slowly beneath the horizon, their tops gleaming white in the
moonlight. Once a sharp command rang through the night, and muskets
rattled.

"What is that?" she whispered, touching his arm.

"They are changing the guard."

"You will not need to watch to-night, M'sieu?"

"No; not again. We shall have an escort to Frontenac." He paused; then
added in uncertain voice, "but perhaps--if Mademoiselle--"

She looked up at him. He went on:

"I will watch to-night, and to-morrow night, and once again--then
there will be no need: we shall be at Frontenac. Yes, I will watch; I
will myself keep guard, that Mademoiselle may sleep safely and deep,
as she slept at the Long Lake and in the forests of the Cayugas. And
perhaps, while she is sleeping, and the lake lies still, I may dream
again as I did then--I will carry on our story to the end, and
then--"

He could not say more; he could not look at her. Even at the rustle of
her skirt, as she sank to the beach and sat gazing up at him, he did
not turn. He was looking dully at the last bright cloud tip, sinking
slowly from his sight.

"Frontenac lies there," he said. "I told them I should bring you
there. It has been a longer road than we thought,--it has been a
harder road,--and they have said that I broke my trust. Perhaps they
were not wrong--I would have broken it--once. But we shall be there in
three days. I will keep my promise to the chiefs; and we--we shall not
meet again. It will be better. But I shall keep watch, to-night and
twice again. That will be all."

He looked down, and at sight of the mute figure his face softened.

"Forgive me--I should not have spoken. It has been a mad dream--the
waking is hard. When I saw you standing here to-night, I knew that I
had no right to come--and still I came. I have called myself a
soldier"--his voice was weary--"see, this is what is done to soldiers
such as I." One frayed strip of an e